


The Forgetting Game

by 11paruline44



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: All he wants is to see his Lady again, Amnesia, F/M, Gen, Poor Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Suspense, multiple akumas at once
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-09-07 06:46:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16849132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/11paruline44/pseuds/11paruline44
Summary: Hawkmoth’s gotten wiser—and stronger. His latest akuma is designed to make people forget completely about the Miraculouses. When this new akuma gets to Ladybug, Team Miraculous is left in a crisis, since without Ladybug, they can’t purify the akumas on the loose—and none of them knows who Ladybug even is. Can Adrien find his Lady before it’s too late?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I found this somewhere in my mess of crazy fic ideas and was encouraged to finally go for it by a couple friends—shout-out to Alexine! Fair warning, I'm not so great at updating, and this one being a longer fic idea, this could take a while... but please bear with me.

The sound of an explosion ricocheted behind Marinette’s eyes, followed by the chilling sound of screams. Or was that just the ringing of her ears? She couldn’t be too sure. 

Marinette scrunched her eyes reflexively against the painful rattling in her skull. Somewhere in the darkness, she had the vague sensation of being swung from side to side. 

Another explosion rocked her mind. Then, she heard someone scream once more, fraught with an obvious desperation that made it echo with painful clarity. 

“LADYBUG!!”

Marinette’s eyes flew open, and the view she was immediately greeted with was no less disorienting than her thoughts. Asphalt raced before her eyes, bouncing with every—every footstep. That was what the rocking sensation was, Marinette’s mind concluded. And this view was upside down...which meant someone was carrying her, like a sack of potatoes...and the rigid tightness of the grip in which she was held suggested whoever it was wasn’t doing so with benevolent intent. 

Marinette’s thoughts ground to a halt. She was being kidnapped. 

So, Marinette did the natural thing. She panicked.

Pulse jumping, Marinette jerked her head up as she tried to get a look at her attacker, limbs flailing like she’d been shocked. She heard a yelp as her knees and elbows connected with flesh, and the world abruptly spun until she was no longer upside-down. 

Marinette blinked. Somehow, she’d landed in a neat crouch, the man she presumed was her attacker lying flat on his back on the pavement, holding his nose and groaning in pain. Then, the man began to stir. Eyes widening, Marinette stumbled to her feet and ran.

“Curse you, Ladybug!” A voice behind her roared. Marinette didn’t have time to wonder what that meant. She darted down the sidewalk, barely aware of anything except the obstacles that appeared in her path. A woman carrying a shopping bag. A baby stroller. A piece of debris. She wasn’t sure when she’d noticed, but the screams that had echoed in her subconscious were still there. To her right, a haze of acrid smoke slowly billowed across the boulevard. But Marinette only had time for one thing. She had to get home. 

She risked a glance behind her. The man was perhaps fifteen feet behind her, streams of blood trickling down from his nose. Eyes narrowing in concentration, Marinette decided to try to lose him, perhaps by darting amidst the buildings to her left. She spotted an alley coming up, thirty feet, twenty feet, ten… now.

Marinette launched herself to the left, her body responding with surprising speed. In the blink of an eye, she was soaring through the air… and then, inexplicably, she found herself on the rooftop. 

Marinette froze. To her right, down below… so far below… the plumes of smoke rose, their source clearer with the perspective of altitude. She whirled to look behind her, shrieking as her foot caught the lip of the roof, threatening to send her off the edge. After regaining her balance with a good deal of arm-flailing, Marinette took a shaky breath in. _Think, think…_ her first priority should be keeping an eye on her pursuer. She scanned the streets below, swallowing down her nausea from the dizzying height. There. To her dismay, he was closing in at an alarming rate… and then he jumped, landing halfway up the side of the building behind her, clinging to the bricks with spider-like dexterity. Marinette let out a choked sob, her heart leaping into her throat as panic took over once again. Before she could even think, she’d taken off once more.

The wind whooshed by her ears, her pigtails bouncing from the impact of every step. If she hadn’t been so terrified, perhaps, in another life, Marinette could imagine herself loving this. She-she was somehow running across the rooftops of Paris, a strange and intoxicating energy filling her limbs from head to toe. Some sort of special instinct had unlocked within her, informing each stride, calculating the distance she needed to jump from roof to roof. Marinette let her mind go blank as she ran, knowing with horrible certainty that if she stopped for one moment to think, dared to let in the million fears and questions and reservations flooding her subconscious, she’d lose whatever it was that was guiding her and… bad things. Bad things would happen. She gave her head a shake, her arms reaching on their own for—was that a yo-yo? Before she knew it, Marinette was swinging across an entire street’s distance, her body tucking into a somersault to lessen the subsequent impact before straightening up once more and launching Marinette headlong into a sprint. Marinette swallowed down another stab of fear as the death-defying trick she’d just accomplished registered in her mind, her feet already five steps ahead. Don’t question it. Just run.

Finally, Marinette found herself in a neighborhood she recognized, if not usually from this...higher angle. That balcony—yes, it was hers. Hope rising from her chest, Marinette swung what she’d decided was definitely some sort of yo-yo and sprang into the air, her body twisting to align vertically with the trapdoor connecting her balcony and her room. She dove through it and landed squarely on her bed, its softness a shock coming from the hard, unforgiving nature of concrete roofing.

Marinette swallowed and tried to control her breathing, now coming in short gasps. She was home. She should be safe.

Why didn’t it feel that way?

Marinette bowed her head to look at her lap, and then practically jumped a good foot into the air at what she saw.

She seemed to be wearing some sort of red and black polka-dotted leggings, composed of a strange, tough fabric Marinette had never seen before. At her hip rested the yo-yo she’d observed from before, already back in some sort of holster. As Marinette reached to examine it, she froze. Her hands, too, were covered in the same polka-dotted material. She stared at them, watching as they began to shake.

What in the world was she wearing? Did it—did it have something to do with how had she managed to get home? 

What, for the love of God, was going on?

Now that Marinette thought about it, she couldn’t remember what had happened before...before she’d woken up. She had a hazy inkling of going to school that day, but what had immediately preceded her blackout? Marinette lifted a hand to tug at her pigtails. She couldn’t remember. She must be losing it. Wearing a strange, skintight bodysuit, jumping across rooftops, swinging from a yo-yo, escaping kidnappers… 

Running away from explosions. 

There’d been some sort of attack, she knew it. She’d encountered the evidence during the chase—the smoke, the screams, the debris. She should be grateful she was able to avoid it, to get home safe. But instead, she just felt guilty. Why? What could she have done?

Restless, Marinette slid down from her bed and paced across her room, before tripping and almost crashing into her dresser. She braced her hands on either side of its surface to steady herself, and looked up into the mirror. 

She looked… she looked like some sort of superhero.

 _Ladybug,_ the voice in her mind had cried. _Ladybug,_ the man had called her.

Marinette jumped back. This was wrong, this was all wrong. She—she couldn’t be—there were no such things as superheroes, and if there were, it wouldn’t—it couldn’t be her. She was the last person who should be tasked with saving anyone—silly, clumsy Marinette Dupain-Cheng—

Suddenly, Marinette couldn’t stand the—the suit she was wearing. She had to get it off. Get it off her. She rubbed her hands down her sleeves, fruitlessly searching for a break in the fabric, picking at it as if the action could help. She tried her back, her waist… no zippers, no way out… Panicking, Marinette tore at her pigtails, her feet, her gloved hands, before arriving at her earrings. She ripped the foreign stud out of her right ear. 

Immediately, half of the suit seemed to dissolve in some sort of pink light.

Marinette cried out, losing her balance and landing on her derrière. Scrambling back, she tore out the second earring, before looking back down at herself.

The suit was gone.

Marinette stared at her trembling hand, slowly uncurling it to reveal the two earrings in her palm. The earrings… they must have been some sort of...

She clenched her fist quickly and rose, marching to her dresser, opening a drawer, and shoving the earrings inside. She was seeing things. She had to have been seeing things. And she had things to do. Homework. Baking. Fashion. Friends. Something.

Marinette crept back towards her bed, hauled herself up, and draped herself across the blankets, clutching at her pillows. Tears blurred her eyes, and she squeezed them shut, attempting to block out the gnawing feeling that she was missing something.

_Ladybug._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien has the worst akuma fight of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry about the late-ish update! I’m not too experienced with writing fight scenes, so I hope this suffices. Thanks for your support!

Multiple akumas at once? Again?

There was no way in hell this was fair. 

Chat Noir coughed as he struggled to his knees. Lifting his head, he scanned, attempting to get a fuller glimpse at the situation—

 _Merde._ Chat flung himself prostrate on the rooftop—again—to avoid the gargantuan, _plastic?_ , crane-like arm that swung his way. Scrambling to his feet, he completed a couple of back handsprings to put a little distance between himself and the closest akuma. If he could just get two seconds to breathe, maybe he could actually figure out what this akuma’s deal was—

“CHATON! Catch!”

Chat jerked his head up just in time to catch the polka-dotted canister Ladybug had thrown his way. He frowned as he gave it a once-over. Did it—did that say _Lego_ glue?

A crash from the street below caused Chat’s cat ears to stand up on end. He jumped to the edge of the building and peered over. 

Absolute chaos. That was Chat’s first impression.

Rubbing his eyes, he took a closer look. 

The akuma with the crane arm that had been after him, and making the bigger mess out of the two akumas, appeared to be composed entirely out of jumbo-sized Legos. Around him, swarms of Legos arranged themselves as if by their own volition, creating walls in Ladybug’s path as she swung from lamppost to lamppost. She was headed in his direction, away from the other akuma, which, to Chat, looked simply like a blanket of white fog. 

Fog that was approaching at a surprisingly rapid clip. Call it a hunch, but Chat was pretty sure they did _not_ want to find out what would happen if they were overtaken by that stuff. 

_Crap._ His Lady was in trouble. Chat needed to move, and fast. He glanced down at the Lucky Charm in his hands. Lego glue. The Lego akuma seemed to purely rearrange its bricks, instead of creating entirely new ones to suit its needs, so if Chat were to adhere the bricks together…

Chat backed up a few paces before bursting forward and diving off the roof. Extending his staff over his head, Chat dug it into the ground and used the momentum to flip him back, right-side up, onto the corner of the Lego akuma’s latest ramparts. Chat whipped out the canister. Time to start spraying like his nine lives depended on it—

—which they pretty much did.

Chat’s ears pricked as a light _thump_ sounded from the wall behind him. Still spraying the walls, he swiveled his head around to catch a glimpse of his Lady. She was covered in dust, her yo-yo swinging in a protective circle around her head. 

“Legos. How a- _mew_ -sing,” Chat smirked, by way of greeting.

Ladybug usually deigned to give him a good-natured eye-roll or a gentle nudge, but this time, she didn’t even glance his way. “Chat, the fog is bad news.”

Chat’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, I sort of figured that. Do you know what it does?”

Ladybug’s earrings gave a sudden beep, and Chat grimaced. He’d forgotten—she’d used Lucky Charm, so she only had so much time. Maybe that’s why she seemed so serious. 

“No, about the fog,” Ladybug sighed. “It hasn’t receded at all from the areas it covered first. We have no way of knowing what it does to the people within it.” Ladybug swept the bangs out of her eyes using her free hand and looked him in the eye, determination and worry filling her features. “Chat—they could be suffering, or maybe they disappeared, or—I don’t know, but when I got close—” 

The Lego akuma took this moment to strike, sweeping its arm across the place where the two heroes were standing. Chat did a somersault off the wall and took cover behind it as Ladybug swung her yo-yo, ensnaring the arm. She dove behind the wall as well, using it as leverage. “Chat— the joint! Go for the joint!”

Chat nodded, securing the glue canister to his waist, and extended his weapon, using it to vault himself onto the Lego akuma’s shoulder. Raising his staff above his head, Chat gathered all his strength, then plunged it down into the plastic joint that connected the arm to the shoulder. As Ladybug pulled, Chat twisted his staff, now wedged in the joint. The connection between the Lego bricks shuddered. Chat adjusted his grip and pulled harder—

Pain shot through the side of Chat’s head, and he had only a fleeting glimpse of the cobblestoned street before crashing into it and skidding hard, his suit thankfully taking the brunt of the road rash. With effort, Chat lifted his head to assess what had hit him. 

_Zut alors._ Ladybug was still pulling on the crane arm, which was almost off, but his staff was still firmly wedged into the shoulder. The real problem, however, was that they hadn’t taken into account the Lego akuma’s other arm. Chat watched in horror as what looked like some sort of wrecking ball descended onto her hideout. Gritting his teeth, Chat managed to bring himself to his feet and ran as fast as he could in her direction.

 _BOOM._ The Lego wall burst into plastic shards, obscuring Chat’s vision, along with a wave of dust from the crater the akuma had put into the street. Coughing and fanning the dust away from his face, Chat squinted into the aftermath for a hint of polka dots. 

Suddenly, a beeping noise sounded from behind him, and Chat barely recognized the sound of Ladybug’s draining miraculous before a firm arm swept him up and he was soaring through the air. Before he could blink, the two heroes were on a rooftop, thankfully away from the Lego akuma. Chat stumbled, panting, then lifted his head to take an instinctual glance around him.

Chat gasped. The fog—it had gotten closer. The building on which they were standing—and every other building near it, in fact— looked like a floating island amidst the clouds. He snapped his head toward the place where he’d been standing moments before, and found it enveloped in white. Chat looked up at his Lady, gratitude and admiration swelling in his chest.

“We need the others—Rena, Carapace, Chloé,” Ladybug stated, already rushing towards the door that led to the stairs into the building. Her miraculous was beeping in earnest now. Chat moved to follow her, before freezing as he realized that she needed privacy to detransform. He bit his lip. Damn those rules, especially now. 

Ladybug wrenched the door open, before pausing and looking over her shoulder. Chat’s breath caught. She was so beautiful in that moment, her face set with determination. “Hold on, Chaton,” she called. Then, she disappeared into the building. 

Chat stared at the door through which his partner had disappeared for a moment, before tearing his gaze away. His Lady was counting on him now. He had to think, think of _something._ Even though he was standing on top of a building surrounded by evil fog, and he couldn’t even _see_ the other akuma at this point, and he’d lost his staff, leaving his options at about zero—

Chat cradled his head in his hands. No, no, no, this was bad. It had been—what, five minutes?—and already, everything had gone to shit. That had to be some sort of record. 

Rubbing his eyes, Chat started to pace. It was no good to freak out. He was Chat Noir, part of Paris’s elite superhero team, and it was his job to protect people. The last thing the people of Paris needed was for him to incapacitate himself by getting all worked up. He needed to act. What would—what would his Lady do? 

Chat came to a halt at the left corner of the rooftop, poised above the street where they’d fought the Lego akuma. Ladybug used her mind to solve whatever problems came her way. She’d survey her surroundings, find a way to make the most out of them, and then execute her plan of action. Chat turned around, scanning the roof. Maybe there was something here—if he just looked hard enough—

Chat’s eyes came to rest on a large, plastic tarp, vaguely secured next to the door that led into the building. A tarp—there were so many things one could do with that. Maybe he could use it as cover from the fog? Or he could drape it over the Lego akuma to confuse it and blind it? Or he could even figure out how to use it as a parachute—

 _CRASH._ Something careened into the roof, causing the lip of the building to crumble and throwing Chat off his feet. Chat closed his fingers around the edge of the tarp and shifted so he could look behind him. A large grouping of Lego bricks, shaped like a giant, disembodied fist, were now embedded into the brick of the building. Well then. Chat didn’t quite have to worry about finding the akuma anymore, since it just came to him.

Scrambling to his feet, Chat yanked the tarp away from the weights holding it down and began wrapping it around his arm, trying to make it somewhat portable. He didn’t quite think that part through, when he chose the tarp as his makeshift weapon—

A whistling noise was Chat’s sole warning as the Lego akuma’s crane arm swung towards him. Gathering up the tarp in a haphazard bunch, Chat sprang into the air, before being yanked to the side by—oh, crap—the tarp had gotten tangled in the arm. Chat scrambled to get a good grip on his tarp, claws shredding through the plastic material, before his feet lost purchase and he was flying through the air, mere inches above the fog. Feeling his claws ripping through the material, his chest tightening in fear, Chat made a last-ditch effort to hoist himself upward and grunted in relief as his claws scraped across the hard plastic of the crane arm. He wrapped his arms and legs around it and hung on for dear life until the arm paused a moment, suspended horizontally above the blank, white cloud. 

Chat swallowed, ignoring the jittering in his stomach at his precarious position. What would Ladybug do? She would—he needed to find some way to twist this situation to his advantage. If only he had his staff—

His staff.

Chat reached his arms up and began to scale the arm like a tree, keeping all four limbs hugged tight around it at all times, just in case it started moving. His staff was still lodged in the shoulder joint, only three meters away. Two and a half meters. Two meters? Chat really wasn’t that good of a judge of distance—but he was getting closer—

Chat’s stomach lurched as the arm began to swing again. Gritting his teeth, Chat kept moving until he was able to place one hand—then two—on his staff. Now he needed leverage in order to pry it out—

The arm came to a sudden halt, bucking Chat into the air. Fortunately, this appeared to provide the force he needed in order to free his staff, as he now had the instrument in his arm. Chat extended his staff, overwhelmed with the relief the familiar weapon brought him, and launched himself up onto the roof he’d been on before he could get low enough to touch the fog. A crash behind him caught his attention, and he snapped his head back to find that the akuma’s crane arm was no longer attached—it must have come off when he’d pulled the staff out. Chat grinned and swung his weapon with a flourish. 

Just then, the sound of a swinging door pricked Chat’s ears.

“My Lady!” he cried, turning in her direction. He was met with a polka-dotted object flying in his direction—a gas mask?

“Al-Rena’s not picking up,” was all Ladybug said as she came up next to him.

Chat frowned. “Wait—I thought you could only contact her if—”

“I have her civilian number,” Ladybug jutted in. “I don’t know where exactly to find her. I did an extra transformation to give us another Lucky Charm, since that one,” she gestured towards Chat’s belt, “didn’t seem to affect Lego guy much at all.” Chat fished the polka-dotted canister out of his belt, only to find that it was dented and leaking—pretty much useless. He looked back up into Ladybug’s eyes. Her determination hadn’t changed, but she was even more serious now. Chat swallowed. 

“I’m going to go look for Rena. Stay here and hold them off.” She turned to leave.

“Wait!” Chat cried. “The mask—you should take it.” He held the mask out. “It’s your Lucky Charm. You’ll need it—”

“You’re the one that’s going to be still fighting here!” she shot back. 

“But you—” Chat squeezed his eyes shut. His Lady hated it when he brought this up, but— “You’re more important than me.”

“No, Chat—” 

Chat opened his eyes to find his Lady’s glaring back at him. She didn’t understand. “You’re the only one that can purify the akuma!” Chat shouted, desperation creeping into his voice. “Please, my Lady—”

“No, and that’s final,” Ladybug snapped, swinging her yo-yo and leaping off the roof before Chat could argue further. 

Chat bit his lip, trying to push down the unsettled feeling in his stomach, and slipped the gas mask over his head. He needed to get back into the fray in order to cover Ladybug, so she could get away. Now, where was that Lego guy—

Suddenly, a crash echoed from the left—the direction in which Ladybug had gone. Chat took off running, watching as the Lego akuma—having somehow moved a block’s distance in the cover of the fog—punched out a whole corner of the building on which Ladybug had been standing. Chat leapt across the rooftops, gaining speed as—  
The world seemed to slow down as the Lego arm reached out for another attack. Ladybug moved to leap out of the way, but was suddenly knocked over by a piece of debris from the new impact, and then she was falling, falling off the roof… and into the fog. 

“LADYBUG!!” Chat screamed. No, no, no—he couldn’t be sure what the fog was, but if she were put under its influence—no, no, no—

Chat threw himself off the building, his body following through for him, extending his staff, somersaulting to slow his gravitational acceleration. His vision blurred. Everything was white—so white, and blank, and cold. His movement slowed, and even when he crashed into something, something that wasn’t the street as he’d planned, he still felt as though he were moving through water, swimming upstream. Something gripped him around the waist, and Chat struggled, still crying out her name, the fog clinging to his limbs. He took out his staff, blindly whacking whatever was in his way, whatever stood between him and his Lady. He was vaguely aware of something shattering, something collapsing to the ground, though all he could see was that suffocating whiteness.

And then—it wasn’t all he could see.

As swiftly as the fog had rolled in, it rolled out. As Chat watched it recede, he got the feeling it wasn’t dissipating, rather afflicting a different area of Paris, but Chat wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Chat lifted off his gas mask and whipped his head around, panting, looking for the telltale spots that would lead him back to his Lady. The street had a handful of people in it, all of which looked to be coming out of some sort of shock, but none of them were Ladybug. Chat dropped the mask and started to run. No, no way. She had to be there. She had to be. 

Chat searched all over the block, running and calling and checking alleyways and doors. She wasn’t there. He clenched his fists, then looked back where he’d come from, expecting to see the Lego akuma—

Except the Lego akuma wasn’t there anymore. In its place sat a wide-eyed toddler, looking about to burst into tears. Chat ran to the boy, realizing he must have broken the akumatized object—but wait, then where was the butterfly—and where was his Lady—

Panic threatened to suffocate him, and, with effort, Chat gulped it down. His Lady. He needed his Lady—

A burst of movement flickered in the corner of his eye, and Chat turned in its direction, down the city street. He froze. 

The fog was back. 

Chat scooped up the mask and yanked it back over his face. Scanning the street once more, and still finding no sign of his Lady, he scooped the now-bawling toddler into his arms and gripped his staff with the other. As he rose into the air and streaked across the rooftops, away from the looming fog, Chat tried to ignore the creeping fear tickling at the back of his mind, threatening to seize his throat and freeze his limbs. He needed to push on, and he couldn’t do that if he let himself think.

After all, what could be worse than if he was right.

That Ladybug was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien tries to regroup.

Adrien sat on his bed, his gaze fixed straight ahead, unmoving save for the rapid rise and fall of his chest. 

This had never happened before. This was—how—how was he supposed to proceed after this?

The fight wasn’t over. Adrien knew that it wasn’t, that the fog akuma was still on the loose, untouched, and that it was only a matter of time before the Lego akuma butterfly multiplied and affected half the city and how was he even sure Hawkmoth wouldn’t create even more akumas on top of that and—

And here he was, just sitting there, in his room, attempting to process. But what else could he do? Because none of this mattered if he didn’t have Ladybug.

His partner. His lady.

His lo—his _crush._

“Adrien. Helloooo, Adrien.”

A small, black blob fluttered before his eyes, and it took Adrien a moment to focus on it and recognize it as Plagg, waving his arms—paws?—whatever kwami appendages were called. “I need to recharge, kid. Camembert.”

Adrien turned his head to the side, burying further into his pillow. “There’s some in my bag, Plagg. You know where.”

Plagg hovered back into Adrien’s field of vision. After a pause, in which Adrien still refused to acknowledge him, the kwami let out a sigh. “Look, kid, I know this seems really bad, but—”

“ _Seems_ bad? Plagg, nothing worse has ever happened to me, or to—to Ladybug. Ever. In the history of our akuma fighting.”

“You’re forgetting you two aren’t the first Ladybug and Chat Noir.” Adrien sat up a bit at this. “Believe me,” Plagg assured him. “I’ve seen worse.”

“Great,” Adrien muttered. “It could always be worse. And this is supposed to help me, how?”

“Experience, kid,” Plagg said, puffing his chest out and pointing to himself. “So, your day has gone horribly. The city is in shambles. The way forward looks completely impossible—”

“Not helping,” Adrien grunted.

“—So now’s the perfect time to get up and get at ‘em. Need to take a pause? Use that time to make a plan! We’ll take the city back in no time!” Plagg did a little pirouette and entered what he probably thought was a heroic pose.

“You are _really_ not good at motivational speeches, Plagg,” Adrien huffed. “And this is serious. Don’t you get it? Ladybug’s been compromised, Plagg. Ladybug. Hawkmoth might has well have won. Heck—” A pang of fear jolted through Adrien’s heart, causing him to sit up, ramrod-straight. “Oh, no, what if she’s not just gone, or under the akuma’s influence? What if he _already has her miraculous_ —”

“Shh-shh-shh,” Plagg said, flying overhead. A moment later, Adrien felt Plagg attempting to smooth his hair, patting his paws on his head awkwardly. Adrien’s eyes narrowed in indignation as he ducked to get out of Plagg’s way. After a small struggle, Adrien planted his feet on the ground and whipped around to look his kwami in the eye. “God, Plagg, can you just leave me alone?”

Instead of giving him a proper response, Plagg simply chuckled and moved to drift away. Biting back a growl, Adrien grabbed his kwami by the tail and dangled the creature in front of his eyes. “Ugh, what is your problem? What are you even trying to do?”

Plagg only yawned, stretching his arms. Adrien gritted his teeth, feeling like he seriously was about to throttle the freaking _god of destruction,_ before Plagg grinned and said, “Good. Now you’re up.”

Adrien frowned. “What—”

“You weren’t doing any good just sitting there,” Plagg drawled. “So, now that I’ve gotten you up, let’s go make a real plan.”

That little—Adrien spluttered, before drawing Plagg closer and letting him swing back and forth in the air. “Wait, so—you were just trying to make me mad, weren’t you? Why, you little—”

Plagg raised an eyebrow, looking slightly lost, before clearing his throat. “Ah. Yes. This was my intention all along.”

Adrien groaned, dropping his hold on Plagg’s tail. “Sure. Now can we _please_ focus?” Adrien ran his hands through his hair, beginning to pace. He couldn’t believe this, any of this. Ladybug was gone, and Plagg was being a little shit, and now he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to sob hysterically into his pillow, or scream, or shove Plagg somewhere even kwamis wouldn’t be able to escape. 

“Alright. So. We are planning!” Plagg announced, his tone dripping with faux-enthusiasm.

Adrien really did growl this time, but, with effort, he kept his thoughts on topic. He dropped his hands to his side, wringing his wrists as he paced. _Plan. Planning. So. Where does one start. For a plan. Plans need—information._

“Ok,” Adrien continued out loud, trying to keep his breathing steady. “Let’s start with what we know. Hawkmoth has learned how to make multiple akumas at once.” Adrien spared a glance at Plagg, who nodded gamely. “One of the akumas was a Lego akuma, composed of a tall, blocky, mech-suit-ish form, completely encasing the toddler inside. Uhhh…” Adrien rubbed his hands over his face. “This akuma seemed to be better able to control his giant plastic bricks, instead of creating new ones. The strategy of gluing the blocks together didn’t really seem to work all that well, since, um, the first lucky charm was kind of a bust.” Adrien’s hands slid down his face and he switched to rubbing them together. “We don’t know what the akumatized object was, since I smashed it up in the fog. And the butterfly got away, so we’re going to get a lot more of those.”

“That’s right kid, but you need to remember to—”

“The other one just looks like fog,” Adrien continued, wracking his brain for as many strategic details as possible. “It seemed— _seems_ to be able to cover large areas of Paris at a time. Its speed is variable. We don’t know where it is now, or what it does—” Adrien straightened. “The news. The news might have information.” He spun on his heel, eyes scanning for his TV remote.

“Alright kid, good deductions, but geez, willya just sit down? I’m getting whiplash just looking at you,” came Plagg’s voice. Adrien pursed his lips at the interruption as he searched the room. “Urgh, Plagg, where’d I put the remote? It was right here—oh—” Adrien bounded to the side table on which he’d found the remote and pressed the power button, before jumping into his rolling desk chair and scooting up close towards the screen.

After a few, agonizing moments in which the TV took its _sweet_ time booting up, Adrien’s heart skipped a beat as the broadcast started up. 

“—downtown today. Hawkmoth seems to have sent not one, but two akumas to face off against Ladybug and Chat Noir,” Nadia Chamack’s voice narrated as Adrien watched himself and Ladybug attempting to wrench the Lego akuma’s arm off. Biting his lip, Adrien fought the urge to shrink away. Normally, he hated watching himself fight—there were always things he should have done better, to protect his lady, and the bystanders, and anyway, his form always needed work. But, there could be visual clues amongst the footage. Adrien’s grip on the armrests of his chair tightened. 

“While the Lego-themed akuma was creating most of the property damage,” Mme. Chamack continued, “The fog akuma appears to be even more dangerous. Reports say several areas of Paris that were caught in it have lost all memories of Ladybug and Chat Noir’s existence.” Adrien’s eyes widened. _What—no, no no no—_

“The effectiveness of Hawkmoth’s newest strategy remains to be seen,” Mme. Chamack’s voice droned on, “and the Lego akuma seems to have been defeated, but Ladybug and Chat Noir have disappeared from the scene. Neither hero has been spotted in hours.”

Adrien stared. This couldn’t be—no, no way. Ladybug had gone into the fog, so the absolute best case scenario was that she had forgotten, completely forgotten, about… everything. About how to fight, how to cleanse the akumas, her own identity, _him_ —

He swallowed. Nope. No, he could not let his mind go there. _Paris_ needed Ladybug, first and foremost. Heck, the whole city was in danger of the fog, this was not just about his own petty wishes and—

The TV screen blurred, and Adrien sniffled. No. He couldn’t just fall apart like this. His lady needed him—especially if she wasn’t _there_ —

The drone of the TV, along with Plagg’s concerned voice, faded into the background as, for the first time since he’d gotten back from the fight, Adrien burst into tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Alya may not have permanent access to her miraculous, but that doesn't mean she's not still part of the team...


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alya, true to her reporting instincts, gets on the case.

_Ladybug and Chat Noir:_

_We know it’s hard. Things look pretty bad right now. But don’t, even for a second, think we don’t believe in you._

_Wherever you are, whoever you are, keep fighting. We know you can do it._

_—Alya_

Alya sighed as she scrolled, proofreading her post one last time, before posting it to the Ladyblog. Pocketing her phone, she scooped up her backpack and marched toward the door. She placed a hand on the doorknob, before realizing. Wait.

Taking a cue from the local news stations, Alya took a deep breath, donned her surgical mask—as well as a scarf, just to be doubly sure—and opened the door.

The first thing Alya saw was the whiteness, stopping her dead in her tracks. It was even worse than she’d thought—the fog was _everywhere,_ and thicker than pea soup. Alya ducked her head into her arm, coughing. She couldn’t breathe it in. She couldn’t forget. No. She had a duty to Ladybug.

After a moment, Alya raised her head and looked around. Ladybug. She still knew who Ladybug was, right? Heroine of Paris, wore a ladybug-spotted suit, used a yo-yo, gave her the fox miraculous in times of need—

Alya sighed, wringing her hands in relief. She was safe. The mask worked. 

Now, for trying to actually navigate her way to school.

Alya stared at the ground, scanning for the parallel lines that marked the edges of the sidewalk, and started forward.

She still thought the school was absolutely crazy for still holding class. Plenty of businesses had cancelled, after all, since what person in their right mind would want to go to work if all of Paris was wrapped in thick, mind-altering fog? Maybe the school superintendents were affected by the fog.

Oh.

That was probably it.

Alya shuddered. On the Ladyblog, she needed to put on a brave face, since that was public crisis management 101—a state of panic would always make things worse. But ever since she became a hero of Paris herself, she knew, all too well, that the safety of her city was far more fragile than it appeared. Sure, Ladybug had managed to convince her, albeit briefly, that she was thousands of years old, but after working with her? And after Chloé and Nino became part of the team, too? Yeah, that was BS. They were all just five teenagers, who didn’t _really_ know what they were doing, trying to keep Paris from disaster at the hands of a mysterious psycho.

Granted, Ladybug was a real professional. Alya had rarely seen her panic, or seem off-balance at all. Despite her probable age, Ladybug seemed to have it covered. 

But that was just the thing—Ladybug hadn’t been seen in nearly a day. 

Alya pulled out her phone and refreshed her blog. So far, she’d gotten likes and comments of support, but no new submissions or sightings. Sighing, she ran her fingers through her hair. 

Ladybug missing in action—that was a big problem. There hadn’t been any good videos taken of the original fight in the afternoon, just shaky snippets and clips. Chat had been seen more recently—Alya had been notified with a couple of sightings in the early hours of the morning. Apparently, he’d been wearing a spotted gas mask—probably a Lucky Charm from earlier—and he’d covered a lot of ground, the sightings being at locations pretty far apart from each other. Whatever he’d been doing out so late, Alya wasn’t sure, but the Lucky Charm was a bad sign. Firstly, because Ladybug usually was the one to use her own Lucky Charms, and secondly, because its existence suggested that the Lego akuma might not have been cleansed. Granted, there had been a different Lucky Charm at the scene of the original fight, but Alya couldn’t be sure. 

All of this evidence only pointed towards one conclusion, one that Ayla didn’t like. Ladybug was gone, and even Chat didn’t know where to find her. And, without Ladybug, Alya had no way to access her own miraculous. 

Finally, the stairs that lead to Collège François Dupont became visible at the edge of the sidewalk. Grateful to get inside, Alya jogged up the stairs and hurried down the hallway. She raised her hand to her surgical mask, briefly considering taking it off, before glancing backwards at the door. Several students opened it and walked in, some of the fog drifting through as they did. Alya cringed and left her mask in place. Until the door to the school was sealed, there was no way in hell she was taking this mask off.

When Alya reached her class, only a smattering of other students were there, but the place was already full of animated chatter. Chloé was in the middle of a shouting match with Kim—apparently, Kim had the audacity to have been affected by the fog, and Chloé, as a true Ladybug fan, felt, of course, that she needed to rectify this situation. Juleka and Alix were engaged in heated whispering in the corner. The only person there who _wasn’t_ talking, surprisingly enough, was Alya’s own boyfriend.

Alya walked up to Nino, sliding into Adrien’s seat for the time being—she was sure Nino’s best bro wouldn’t mind. “Hey,” she greeted. “I can’t believe this mess—Hawkmoth is really getting some better strategies, for sure.”

Nino frowned. “About that—do you know what’s going on? The fog this morning was ridiculous, sure, but what’s this about ladybugs and—what is that word Chloé keeps saying? _Akumas_?”

Alya felt her throat close. No—there was no way—not Nino, too. She blinked, trying to swallow.

“Alya?” Nino asked, confused.

“So it happened to you too,” Alya managed, the words barely a whisper. 

Nino took his hat off to scratch his head, then replaced it. “Dude, what is that supposed to mean? I come into class today, and suddenly, everyone’s telling me there’s something I’ve forgotten, and—”

“One of the only other heroes. Our only chances. And you’ve forgotten, too,” Alya said. 

Nino quieted at this and looked her in the eye, still evidently confused, but also showing some concern. “Alya—is everything ok—”

Just then, a pair of familiar feet flew by, only to trip on a stair, causing papers to go flying. Alya jerked her head upwards. Marinette was here. 

“Marinette!” Alya cried, jumping out of her seat to help her pick up her things. “Thank God! Are you alright? Did the fog get to you, too?”

Marinette groaned as she hastily grabbed a fistful of papers off the floor and placed them at her seat. “Ugh, that fog was terrible. I could hardly see where I was going. They really shouldn’t have given us school today.”

“Ugh, exactly!” Alya exclaimed. “Especially since it’s so dangerous—even Nino’s forgotten.” Alya gave Nino an apologetic glance. It wasn’t his fault, really, but...

Marinette’s face scrunched up. “Forgotten what?” she inquired. 

Alya stilled, the papers she’d been holding fluttering to the floor. “No, no no no.” A cold feeling began to creep in, closing around her heart. It couldn’t be happening to her friends, too. How was she going to—how many people in Paris had forgotten, anyway?

Alya sat down in her chair, holding her head in her hands. Hawkmoth’s angle. It was all too obvious now. If no one remembered Ladybug and Chat Noir, if no one believed in his akumas, no one would even know to protect them. And, the fact that they all had school today had probably exposed—and re-exposed—scores of students to the fog. In fact, this was probably happening to the whole city, everyone who had work today, anyone who hadn’t seen the warnings on the news about the fog, or who weren’t lucky enough to possess surgical masks or gas masks…

“Hey, Alya, look at me,” Marinette’s voice said, soothing. Alya felt a hand rubbing circles on her back. She glanced up to see her best friend’s concerned face. “Whatever it is, it’ll be alright.”

“Alya, you can talk to us, you know that,” Nino’s voice said to Alya’s left. She turned to look at him, too. “We’re here for you.”

But that’s the thing.

They couldn’t be, not for this anymore.

Tears began to blur Alya’s eyes, and she bit back a sob. She couldn’t just break down like this, no, she needed a plan, she had to keep her head on her shoulders. “I’ll—I’ll be ok, guys,” she choked. 

“EXCUSE ME, CLASS!” Madame Bustier’s voice boomed. Alya sucked in a breath as silence, unlike any she’d heard before in her class, descended upon the room. Mme. Bustier never raised her voice like that. 

“I’m well aware of the news,” the teacher continued, her tone ice-cold, “but this is not how we behave ourselves. Ladybug and Chat Noir need support, not gossip.”

At this moment, Adrien came bursting through the room, effectively breaking the tension. Seemingly unaware of the situation around him, he dropped his bag at his seat and began rummaging through it, urgency filling his every move. Alya frowned, wondering what was up, before noticing—he had a surgical mask on. Alya’s heart leapt, and she rose from her seat.

“Please, tell me you remember,” she breathed.

Adrien’s head jerked up. Alya’s eyes widened at his appearance. Adrien was frequently tired in class, probably because of his jerk father and his crazy schedule, but today, he looked like absolute _death_. And, Alya noted, like he wanted to cause a few deaths, too.

“Oh, thank _God_ ,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Alya. We need to talk. This is really important—”

And, at that incredibly inopportune moment, the bell rang.

Alya bit back a curse. “Later,” she whispered, before slinking back into her seat. Marinette gave her a sidelong perplexed glance, but Alya was too relieved to care. Finally. Someone else.

Although, Adrien’s behavior was also raising just a few questions… Alya’s fingers itched for her phone, where she kept all her reporter’s notes, but thought better of it and drummed her fingers on the surface of her desk to quell some of her anciness. Class. She needed to at least _pretend_ she was paying attention.

Alya took out a pencil and a pad of paper and started pretending. 

***

By the time the bell rang for lunch, Alya certain she was starting to lose her goddamn mind. 

Hearing the sound of freedom, sweet, sweet freedom, Alya jumped up and began to gather her things. She needed to get out of here so she could start working on her theories and plans again. 

Alya would’ve been shocked if anyone had told her that there was anyone more energized and crazed-up and focused than she…

… until Adrien turned up at her desk. Right, she’d forgotten that he’d had something to say to her.

“Alya,” he prodded, grasping her arm. “Alya, I need to talk to you, like, right now.”

The journalist extraordinaire in question lifted her head, only to be met with a pair of green eyes, _way_ too close for comfort (for anyone but Marinette, that is.) Alya took an involuntary step back. She’d also forgotten that he was acting strangely enough to deserve his own fieldnotes.

“Uh, yeah, what is it?” Alya started, giving the boy a cautious once-over.

“Ladybug,” he whispered—no, more like _hissed_. “We need to find out who she is.”

Alya raised an eyebrow. “Well, uh, yeah, I’ve been working on that.” Less so, since she’d become Rena Rouge and had thus begun to understand the importance of keeping a secret identity, but no one needed to know that. 

“No,” Adrien said, rubbing the heel of his palm on his face, before lifting his head to meet her eyes once more. “I mean, like, now. We need to find her. Right now.”

Alya gave a nervous glance to her left. Marinette and Nino were looking at them strangely, the former with a nervous, embarrassed expression—most likely caused purely by close proximity to her crush—and the latter with a confused—was that slightly jealous?—expression. “Um,” Alya started, before shifting her gaze back to Adrien, who still hadn’t let up his hold on her arm. “Alright, uh, let’s, um, get lunch together, and we can have a brainstorm session.” 

“Great,” Adrien replied, his face lighting up in a semi-crazed grin—

—before Alya was suddenly yanked towards the door. Stumbling in surprise, Alya sent an apologetic glance over her shoulder at Marinette and Nino. Ookay. Now this was getting _really_ weird. She’d never thought Adrien could come even _close_ to this intense. Was she like this when she was trying to get a story? Alya shook her head. Never mind—that kind of thinking would only drive her crazy.

“So, Adrien,” Alya started, making sure she didn’t trip over her feet due to the fast clip at which he was dragging her. “What brought this about? I mean, I have a lot of theories about what’s going on, with the recent akuma attacks, but—”

“We need to find her,” Adrien repeated. 

Nino appeared at Adrien’s side, obviously having jogged to catch up. “Dude, how many coffees have you had?”

Adrien tilted his head. “Three.”

_“Bruh.”_

Adrien frowned. “You don’t understand, this is really important. I’ve got to find her before…” He swallowed, absently tugging on Alya’s arm in a manner that was, frankly, not the most comfortable. “Uh, well, anyway, I really need to know who she is.”

Alright. This had gone on long enough. Alya stopped in her tracks, wrenching herself free from Adrien’s grip (with a good deal of effort—the kid was stronger than he looked.) “Ok, what’s going on?” she asked, giving Adrien the best evil-mother-eye she could manage.

For a moment, Adrien looked almost panicked at the question. “Um, well, I mean—” he gestured broadly— “look at what’s happening. Half the people in the city don’t remember who Ladybug and Chat Noir are, there are _two_ akumas on the loose, and one of them is about to start multiplying—”

“Wait, what?” Alya’s pulse jumped—this hadn’t made her current assessment of the situation. “Are you talking about the Lego one?”

Adrien gave an impatient grunt. “Well, yeah, but the important part is, Ladybug likely forgot about who she is and if we want to save Paris, we have to find her because she’s the _only_ one who can purify the akuma and you’re the Ladyblogger so if anyone would know—”

 _Oh, crap._ He could be right. Alya had seen the footage, grainy though it was. The last anyone had seen of Ladybug, she’d plunged into the fog—and she hadn’t been wearing a gas mask. 

“I’m in,” Alya declared. She reached out and gently grabbed Adrien’s arm. “Now, let’s try to calm down, just a little bit, maybe?”

“Seriously,” Nino grumbled from behind them. Right—Alya had almost forgotten about Nino and Marinette. “Sorry guys,” she said, allowing her pace to slow until she was walking at their side. “Ok, so basically, Ladybug and Chat Noir are the leaders of Paris’s superhero team—”

“Wait, what? That’s what this is about? _Real_ superheroes?” Nino interrupted, eyes shining. 

Alya nodded. “I’m not kidding. I run the Ladyblog—the top source for all things Ladybug,” she announced, pulling out her phone. “See?”

“ _Alya,_ now is not the time to plug your blog,” Adrien groaned.

“Hey, I resent that. And it _is_ relevant,” Alya shot back. Scrolling through her blog, Alya clicked on a recent press conference photo. “Here, this is what they look like.”

Nino and Marinette leaned in to take a look. “Huh,” Marinette murmured. “She looks kind of like me.”

Instantly, Alya and Adrien whipped their heads to stare at the girl, but before either could respond, Nino leaned in closer and yanked Alya’s phone out of her hands. “Whoa, is this them in action?” he breathed, clicking on a video from the blog. “Nooo waayy.” 

Alya gritted her teeth. On the one hand, yes, Ladybug and Chat Noir were badass, but on the other hand— “Hey, what have you learned during the time you’ve been my boyfriend? Don’t. Touch. The phone.” Alya wrenched her prized possession out of Nino’s hands with a huff.

“Aww, come on,” Nino complained. “You don’t get to see this kind of stuff every day.”

Alya arched a brow, and Adrien cleared his throat. “Uh, this is Paris,” he said. “We kind of _do_ see this stuff every day.”

“Right.” Nino stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I was somehow supposed to know that.”

“That’s the part I’m getting to,” Alya sighed, searching her blog for yesterday’s footage. This was going to be just a little hard to explain. “So, yesterday, there was an akuma attack—”

“You guys keep on saying that word,” Nino sighed. “Sorry to be Captain Obvious here, but what’s an akuma?”

“An akuma is a temporary villain created by the real evil mastermind, Hawkmoth,” Adrien jutted in. “He sends out this evil-ized butterfly, which goes and finds someone who’s feeling upset, infects an object they’re touching, and turns them into a mind-controlled supervillain.”

Alya scanned her friends’ faces. Marinette’s face was scrunched up in concentration, while Nino’s was simply frozen in a blank stare. Alya resisted the urge to facepalm in frustration. “Basically, Hawkmoth amplifies negative feelings to make people do what he wants,” she clarified.

Marinette made a face. “Sounds fun.”

 _Tell me about it,_ Alya groaned inwardly. Her turn as Lady Wifi was not one of her fondest memories.

“So anyway. Yesterday.” Alya cleared her throat. “Usually Hawkmoth only akumatizes one person at once, but this time, there were two akumas on the loose. One of them was Lego-themed, and we think Ladybug took care of that one.” Adrien grimaced at this—oh, right, he seemed convinced it hadn’t been purified. Alya filed this tidbit away for later. “The other is the fog.”

Nino and Marinette both inhaled sharply. “We’ve been _breathing_ that,” Nino spluttered.

“Yeah. That’s the thing—whenever you breathe it in, according to the news, you forget all about Ladybug and Chat Noir’s existence.”

Marinette nodded. “So that’s why you were wearing a mask earlier.”

Something in Alya began to relax at this. They were starting to understand—somehow, that made all the difference. She wasn’t alone anymore. _But,_ she thought as she gave Adrien a sidelong glance, _this situation could be worse than I thought, if what he’s said is right…_ She shook her head. One thing at a time.

“Oh, and just in case,” Adrien added, “I have some extra surgical masks for you guys. So we don’t have to explain this stuff again.”

“Sweet,” Nino replied, just as they reached the cafeteria. “Please don’t let me go outside unless I have one on.” Nino chuckled. “I mean, real superheroes? This is great!”

“It’s also serious,” Adrien reminded him as they chose an empty table to sit at. “If Ladybug and Chat Noir can’t defeat Hawkmoth, Paris will live in disaster.”

Nino shrugged. “Ok, but it seems like they probably have it in hand.” Alya bit her lip. If only he remembered…

Adrien didn’t take as kindly to this suggestion. “You don’t know that,” he snapped. “What if Ladybug has been affected by the fog? What then? She’s the only one who can purify the akumas.”

Hands raised in a placating gesture, Nino took a step away from the table. “Whoa, there, bro. Trying to keep things optimistic. And anyway, there’s another super out there, right? Chat Noir? He can probably take care of it.” Nino turned and walked away, presumably to go buy lunch.

Alya’s gaze shifted to Adrien. She wasn’t sure what she expected—he’d been more intense and and snippy this morning that she’d ever seen him—but instead of making another retort, he lowered his head, something in Nino’s words striking a chord. Silently, Adrien sat down, and Alya followed suit, taking the place across from him with Marinette by her side. 

_What is up with him?_ Alya mused, opening her lunchbox to access her sandwich. Nino did have a point, Alya realized. She had a responsibility to research and plan—after all, she not only ran one of Paris’s top sources on the heroes, but was also a hero herself. Alya, the queen of the Ladyblog, had a duty to inform the public, while Rena Rouge, holder of the fox miraculous, had a duty to keep the public safe and to aid Ladybug as best she could. But Adrien—Alya peered over her sandwich at the blond. He was slumped over his salad, looking almost defeated, yet still held himself with some of the same purposeful tension he’d come in with that morning. Alya narrowed her eyes. Adrien was different from her—he didn’t have a responsibility to the heroes of Paris, much less a way to enact any plans he might create. Well, Alya stopped herself, as far as she knew—she couldn’t rule out any possibilities as a reporter, after all—but she was pretty sure she’d know if Adrien had an important role. Whatever the case, Adrien had come in today with fire in his eyes, as well a couple of key assumptions—Alya was reluctant to call them facts, since she didn’t have any evidence to support them yet—that Alya herself didn’t possess. In fact, if Alya didn’t know better, she’d say Adrien was acting as if saving Paris _was_ his responsibility. And Alya needed a reason. 

Fishing out her phone, Alya created a new file in her notes titled _Adrien’s Behavior._ She typed up a couple of quick qualitative observations concerning his general actions, then recorded the two ideas he’d presented that were gnawing at the back of her mind:

_1). The Lego akuma was not purified and will soon multiply.  
2). Ladybug was affected by the fog and has forgotten who she is._

Grimacing, Alya set her phone down and took a bite of her sandwich. If Adrien was right… that would not be good. She had to know where he’d gotten these ideas, and if they could be proved with evidence. And, in Alya’s humble, journalistic opinion, the best way to do that would be to go over the facts with him—while fitting in some subtle probes, of course.

Alya cleared her throat to get Adrien’s attention. The boy in question started, almost like a scared animal, before his posture relaxed, if only slightly. Alya swallowed. “So,” she started. “Um… how about we watch the video from yesterday. You know, maybe we missed something.”

Adrien set his fork down to look at her. “Do you think that will help us find her?” he asked, tone… guarded, Alya decided. Yes, it was almost as if he was trying not to seem too eager. Alya frowned. That ship had long past sailed. 

“Well, I think it is important to start with what we know,” Alya replied, slowly. Sure, she would like to discuss Ladybug’s identity, but Adrien was making her too suspicious to change the topic. “And we can’t be too sure that she even fell victim to the fog in the first place.”

Adrien pursed his lips. “You said you’d—” He paused and stabbed a lettuce leaf with his fork. “We only have so much time,” he said instead. 

“I know, I just don’t go into things blind,” Alya responded.

“Alya—” he met her eyes. “Please. I—” Adrien lowered his head, his grip on his fork relaxing. “She needs me,” he finished, the words barely a whisper. 

Marinette shifted uncomfortably to Alya’s right, causing Alya’s stomach to sink. Marinette’s crush—she felt like a horrible friend. All this talk of Ladybug—

—wait. 

Alya sat up straight. She’d heard it before in passing, a couple of hushed rumors here, a couple of whispered jabs from Nino there, but never had it been so plain before today. Adrien—he had a _crush_ on Ladybug. A pretty big one, if Alya would say so herself. Alya coughed. This was—this was going to be _interesting._

Especially since—now that Alya thought about it, Marinette had been unusually quiet today. She peeked a glance at her best friend. Marinette’s posture seemed more closed off, less self-assured. Alya could brush this off as having to eat with Adrien, yet… yet Marinette had been much more comfortable around him as of late. Alya was going to need to pull Marinette aside to perk her up later. But, first things first. Adrien. Ladybug. Crush.

Putting down her sandwich, Alya contemplated placing a comforting hand on Adrien’s, before thinking better of it. “Adrien,” she sighed. “I know you’re worried about Ladybug. But you have to give her some credit. She’s a pretty tough gal.”

Adrien clenched his jaw. “Alya, I know. But this—please, Alya, you have to understand. Hawkmoth could have taken away her ability to fight altogether.”

He was being unreasonable. They couldn’t just go about revealing Ladybug’s identity that lightly, and for what—a crush? “Adrien, we don’t know that. We have to find the evidence—”

“We have the evidence, Alya, we need to find her—”

“I’ve already searched for her identity before, what makes now more urgent—”

“Alya—”

“Hey, is everything all right?” Nino suddenly appeared to Adrien’s right, effectively causing silence to descend upon the table. 

Adrien averted his eyes. With a sharp exhale, Alya took a bite of her sandwich. Perhaps Adrien had a point—she could always use more information on Ladybug to aid her efforts, and what if—Alya swallowed. Had she even allowed herself to think…

What if Ladybug _had_ forgotten?

Alya drew out her phone. “Alright,” she said. “Let’s—let’s see what we can figure out. I’m going to pull up my blog, and—” She set her phone down on the table, rotated so Adrien could see, and zipped open her backpack. “My notes are in here. Fair warning, there’s a lot of them.”

Adrien’s reaction was immediate, his eyes lighting up as he leaned in to look at the Ladyblog. Alya furrowed her brow—if his crush was this obvious right now, how had she not noticed it before?

Later.

Alya found the notebook she was looking for and hefted it onto the table, scraps of newspaper clippings and photos spilling out the sides. “Here.”

Nino whistled. “Dude.”

Adrien sprang up and began flipping through the notebook. “This is…” Adrien’s face was Alya’s little sisters’ whenever she took them to the candy store on the corner. “You’ve had this this whole time?” He gave her a look that was almost accusatory.

Alya folded her arms. “Hey, I’m a competitive journalist, I’m under no obligation to reveal all my notes.”

Adrien turned his gaze back to the book, running his fingers across a page. “No, it’s just…” Adrien flipped to Alya’s spread on the first recorded akuma attack. “Wow.”

“Was that the day Ivan confessed to Mylène?” Marinette’s voice piped up from behind Alya’s shoulder. She traced her fingers along a photo of Ivan and Mylène together. “I—I can’t seem to remember much of that day.”

Nino lifted his cap to scratch his head. “Yeah, I don’t remember there being a part in which Ivan was, apparently, turned into some sort of rock monster.”

“No, I mean—” Marinette’s nose wrinkled as she narrowed her eyes in thought. “Like, it feels different from an ordinary memory. Usually, we remember things in vignettes, in bits and pieces, but I don’t know, I’m getting a funny feeling every time I try to picture—” Marinette rubbed her head. “I don’t know.”

“So maybe there are hallmarks of stolen memories, which we can use to track which ones have been taken,” Alya mused. 

Adrien made a non-commital grunt and turned a page. “You seem to have a lot of information about her hero career, but do you have any… personal details?” He turned his head, giving Alya a grave look. “You know, ones that can better lead us to her identity.”

Scowling, Alya grabbed the book. “Who do you think I am?” she grumbled, flipping the pages. Where was it… there.

“Voilà,” she announced, shoving the book back onto the table. “Everything we currently know about one Ladybug, spotted heroine of Paris.”

Adrien pulled the book toward him and leaned over. “Hey,” Nino whined—because really, Adrien, no one else could see—but was met with no response. Alya bit her lip, annoyance mounting. 

For a moment, there was only silence as Nino and, albeit much less forcefully, Marinette, jostled to see the book. Alya kept her eyes on Adrien, whose frown was deepening. “Her favorite color isn’t red, it’s pink,” he muttered.

Alya took a step forward. “What?” How would he know—Alya had the most exclusive evidence in Paris, so who was he to think he knew better—

Suddenly, a chorus of screams erupted from the direction of the street. Alya and, she observed from the corner of her eye, Adrien, jolted to attention. “No, please no,” Alya muttered. Not more akumas. Not now. 

A crash shook the street, and the cafeteria flew into chaos. Alya grabbed Nino and Marinette’s hands and streaked towards a more enclosed, and hence safer, area of the room. “You guys stay here,” she shouted, not waiting for a response before she took off running. She needed to get outside and film this—

—wait. The fog. Masks. She needed protection. 

Alya pivoted mid-stride and rushed to her backpack, hastily pulling out her surgical mask, and, after a moment’s thought, a couple more, just in case. She straightened, surveying her surroundings once more. Her friends—Nino and Marinette were still where she’d left them, thank goodness, although they were crowding towards the window with the other nearby students in an attempt to make out what was going on. Alya turned to scan the rest of the room. Adrien—she’d forgotten about him in her rush. Nino and Marinette, who now didn’t know what to do in case of an akuma attack, had needed her protection first, since Adrien did remember living through many of them, yet he was still a civilian—one who had a big crush on Ladybug, had a stubborn, insane urge to protect her, and was in a fouler mood than Alya had ever seen him—

Alya’s eyes widened. Oh, no. He was going to do something stupid, wasn’t he.

Confirming with another look around the room that Adrien was elsewhere, Alya took off out the door, towards the stairs, and through the hallways, plotting out in her head the fastest way to the street. Finally reaching the double doors that led to the outside, Alya donned her mask, bracing herself, before pushing them open.

For a moment, all Alya could see was the fog. She squinted in the direction of the screams. Curse that stupid fog—how was Alya supposed to gather evidence against the enemy if she couldn’t freaking _see_?

But, gradually, the shapes of buildings and cars became more apparent as her eyes adjusted to the whiteness of the fog. She could still hear the screams, and the crashes, coming from perhaps a block to her left. Alya began to jog towards the sounds. She needed a better angle on the action—

 _CRASH._ Before Alya knew it, she’d been thrown to the ground, her palms, knees, and the side of her head gathering a couple of unpleasant scrapes. Gritting her teeth, Alya crawled to a sitting position to look behind her in the direction of the shockwave. 

First, she saw the feet. They were about the size of cars, and made out of plastic—

Oh, no. Adrien was right.

As Alya lifted her head, the silhouette of the Lego akuma’s body became clearer, a dark shadow looming over her as it marched forward.

This had just gone from bad, to _reeeaaalllly_ bad.


End file.
